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<title>Jaskier is a Dumbass so is Geralt: Tomfoolery Ensues or Jaskier Hides an Injury from Geralt by Introvertedfangirl</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26686441">Jaskier is a Dumbass so is Geralt: Tomfoolery Ensues or Jaskier Hides an Injury from Geralt</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Introvertedfangirl/pseuds/Introvertedfangirl'>Introvertedfangirl</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluffy Ending, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Hides injury, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, M/M, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Pre-Slash, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Tenderness</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:49:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,166</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26686441</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Introvertedfangirl/pseuds/Introvertedfangirl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A pain gripped his very soul and he clutched his hands over his chest. Jaskier’s heart thumped in that cavity, a beat of both loneliness and despair. In the dark of night, the bard’s still sleeping form was still lain out on the tavern’s bed. But now, in his fitful state of sleep night terrors he had turned over onto his injured arm. The pain he felt within his nightmare was as real as his deluded mind imagined. Geralt had left him. A “weak, foolish human”-that is what he had called him after finding out about his injury.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>249</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Did I in fact ignore editing my actual college assignment to write this? Yes... yes I did. I really did writr 3000+ something words. Clearly I am emotionally stable. Not that anyone cares but these two have been my..comfort ship?? since high-school and now I am finally writing about them! Anyways this is my first Jaskier &amp; Geralt fic. Please be nice, as I just watch the show. I apologize if there are any glaring mistakes in their characterizations :). Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After the aftermath of the conversation he had with Geralt, he <strike>fled</strike>…no, had retreated to their room. At the tavern they were rooming at, there had been a surplus of rooms available. Despite this fact though, both men had agreed upon sharing a room. A few months into their travels, they had acknowledged that it saved coin.</p><p>Additionally, it was a habit the two men began to settle into more often than not, even if two rooms were available. Unfortunately, this night the Bard deeply regretted that decision.</p><p>Though borne from light banter, their conversation had quickly turned serious. To Jaskier’s chagrin, he had forgotten the Witcher was at best- if not inadvertently cruel- a very blunt man.  Banter was perhaps something that the white-haired giant still needed more exposure to in whatever their <strike>relationship</strike> arrangement was.</p><p>After they had arrived, both men came down the creaky wooden stairs leading back to the front room of the tavern. Jaskier who was surprised, but not necessarily dismayed at the Witcher’s uncharacteristic choice to join the rest of humanity, hid a small grin as he climbed the stairs behind Geralt.</p><p> The Bard went slower than usual though. In the course of their last hunt, he had been injured. Against the Witcher’s orders, he had jumped in front of Geralt to protect him against the gnashing teeth of a siren. With his hands covering his ears to prevent temptation, he of course could not avoid the terrible crashing fall he took. He did not mind though, for whether <strike>his </strike>the Witcher would admit it or not, Jaskier had indeed distracted the siren. It was a distraction, welcome or not by Geralt, that had allowed the Witcher the chance to use a spell on the siren.</p><p>A look of terrible panic had flooded into her eyes when she realized she had lost her voice-her primary power. Geralt promptly sliced her head from her body.</p><p>With a grunt at Jaskier, he had offered a hand to the bard who still lay upon the wet hard surface of the pebbly beach of the siren’s cove. Reaching up, Jaskier grinned at the Witcher’s grim face and suppressed the urge to say, “are you not going to thank me then”?</p><p> Somehow, he knew that Geralt might not appreciate that. And after all, the man had just offered him his hand. Lest he wanted to be let go of and go crashing back onto the pale white hard pebbles, he would hold his tongue.</p><p>In one swift movement Geralt tugged Jaskier up. A white-hot fire burst through his arm though, and it took all he had in him to not let out a rough, ragged scream of pain. Instead, he choked off his scream with a strange mirthless chuckle that fell rather flat. Apparently, his arm was sprained. Brilliant. Just. Brilliant.</p><p> </p><p>Unnoticed by Jaskier, Geralt’s habitually expressionless face now quirked one imposing alabaster brow. Hesitatingly, those pale pink lips formed as if to ask a question. Yet, they closed almost as quickly as they had opened. Something had been strange about the Jaskier’s laugh, but he was not going to press the bard. If Jaskier had something to say, then he would say so. It was not as if the Bard had refrained from doing so on any other occasion. Especially when and if the Witcher might have wished him to.</p><p>And if the increased thumping of the Bard’s heart sounded in his ears or the soft hitching breaths of <strike>his,</strike> the Bard’s breaths huffed into Geralt’s ears- he did not notice.</p><p>Now that Jaskier stood on his own two feet, it was taking everything in him not to gasp asthmatically at the pain. With his right hand he slowly moved towards his left arm. Gently, he adjusted it into a position where he would only slightly feel the pain of his injury. Silently, he thanked the gods that when he held it at that chosen degree, the pain was nowhere near as burning.</p><p>Discreetly he allowed himself a quick glance at Geralt who had moved off to adjust Roach’s saddle. The man appeared to have not observed the Bard’s injury. Somehow, though Jaskier recognized this as a good thing (for then he would avoid being reprimanded)-it stung. Whether from the pain or this fact, his blue eyes swam and he roughly brushed away that liquid.</p><p>Bracing himself, he approached Geralt.</p><p>              “Not that I am in a hurry, he began to ramble, but I was just wondering… and of course if you do not know the answer”-</p><p>“Just ask me Bard”, the Witcher sighed.</p><p>“Are we stopping anywhere tonight?” “A tavern maybe?”</p><p>With this statement Jaskier had to control the hopeful gleam in his eyes. If they stayed the night somewhere besides a forest floor, he would be able to get a room, wrap his arm, be away from Geralt’s purview, and just take care of himself. Of course though, nothing would go to plan.</p><p>All Geralt offered in response was a non-committal hmm, and the slight hope on Jaskier’s face began to die away and his face paled. This hmm however was not a no. Rather, Geralt was thinking. It would not hurt to spend the night away from the forest floors.</p><p>Also, the niggling <strike>worry</strike>, <strike>concern</strike>, curiosity that was in the back of his mind at Jaskier’s strange chuckle, and still yet stranger behavior, would most likely be better answered in the comfortable environment of the indoors. Not that he of course, was desperate or anything to find out. Of course not. No. He simply did not like people hiding things from him.</p><p>He was broken from this reverie by the feeling of the Bard’s intense stare on him. For a moment Geralt’s mouth went dry as he met those deep blue eyes. They were <em>so </em>like the ocean. One could get lost in them. At this thought the Witcher nearly made a grimace. Sentimentality had no place in his thoughts.</p><p>Clearing his throat, he muttered a quick yes. And if the Bard let out a less than discreet sigh of relief- he made no comment.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After several hours of quiet trekking down the forest trails they finally reached a town with a tavern. During those several hours on the path Jaskier had given up on the thought of keeping up conversation.</p><p>Though he wished to keep up the pretense that he was “all right,” he did not have the strength in him to talk. Geralt would find him out immediately. Therefore, he instead sang many a song. They were ones he had memorized and were more muscle memory than anything else.</p><p>When they reached the tavern, Jaskier of course had walked the whole way there. He had grimaced at the thought of even asking Geralt about riding Roach.  Therefore, he was worse off than when he had first injured himself.</p><p>In the growing dark of dusk Geralt had been so focused on the trail and leading them to the tavern, he had forgotten about his initial curiosity about the Bard’s increasingly odd behavior. Indeed, he did not even notice the trembling of the Bard’s lithe frame, nor the way he now clutched his right arm to his side or how limp it was. Damned, if the Witcher was not oblivious at times.</p><p>Leaving Geralt to dismount from Roach and give her a rubdown in the stables, Jaskier entered the Tavern. A portly man with a greasy bald spot and a barely there mustache equally as oily greeted Jaskier with a fish wide toothed grin.</p><p>“Here for drinks, or for the night sir” he queried in a simpering tone. His eyes greedily latched onto the pouch of coin the Bard had already reached for. Before the brunette could even open his lips to answer, a voice rumbled quietly behind him</p><p>“For the night…and one room please.”</p><p>At this statement Jaskier fought the urge to whip around and fervently protest the Witcher. Instead he merely tensed his shoulders. How would he ever avoid Geralt finding about his injury now? Of course if the Witcher did find out, he would blame himself. Any pain that Jaskier already felt would be magnified by that fact. Geralt blamed himself for so much already. The Bard was not willing to add to that burden.</p><p>The face of the tavern’s owner had blanched slightly at both the sight of the towering Witcher behind Jaskier in addition to the low timbre of his voice. Nevertheless though, good coin was good coin, so he quickly settled the fishy smile he thought to be welcoming back upon his countenance.</p><p>He spoke a few words to both men as he ushered them upstairs to their room, but they all went over Geralt’s head. He had noticed the way that <strike>his</strike>, the Bard’s shoulders had tensed at his words. Perhaps he had been presumptuous?</p><p>But then again, they shared a room more often than not though. To his surprise he felt some reluctance as he pushed those thoughts back as they reached their room. Though he did not dare believe it. It was quite possible that he was…. concerned for Jaskier?</p><p>After bustling about the room for a bit to both show them it and equally to assure his tip the tavern’s owner departed, but not before he invited them downstairs to eat.</p><p>Though he was still somewhat panicked at sharing a room with Geralt, Jaskier felt some comfort at not having to sleep outside. He had carefully settled into the mattress of the second bed- the one farthest from the door and facing the window.</p><p>Letting out a sigh of relief, he let himself relax against the oaken headboard. His arm still hurt but he ignored it. Instead he quietly watched Geralt take his armor off. Though a slow process, it was methodical and swift. As Geralt finally finished, his grey tunic somehow managed to be pulled up for a brief moment. And despite the painful situation Jaskier was in, he could not help but admire the sculpted rippling muscles underneath.</p><p>Geralt now turned to greet that stare though, and the Bard’s cheeks flushed a warm pink. Under his breath he muttered something about not looking and a lazy eye he had. Running his hands through that long and wavy white-grey hair the Witcher had to hold back a smirk. Apparently, he did not do so well, for <strike>his</strike>, the Bard flushed a deep fuchsia.</p><p>With as much quickness as Jaskier could muster with his injured arm, the Bard quickly made his way across the room to escape the uncomfortable situation he had created.</p><p>The Witcher however beat him to his mark and turning around grunted something about dinner as he made his way towards the stairs. Jaskier followed at a slower pace due to the increasing pain in his arm and the fact that if nothing- although he <em>was</em> hungry- he was also bone tired.</p><p>When he reached the bottom floor Geralt was somehow already seated. He sat in a booth that unsurprisingly was situated away from prying eyes.</p><p>Plopping down into the seat was a decision that Jaskier immediately regretted for it caused a white- hot flare to shoot straight up his arm. But there was nothing to do for it, unless he wanted to reveal himself to Geralt. Instead he resulted to another mirthless chuckle. This time though, he saw the quirk of Geralt’s brow- he chose to ignore it.</p><p>“Have you ordered then”, he opted for a forced cheerful tone.</p><p>“Hmm,” Geralt offered, and Jaskier bit his lip to refrain from a biting reply that he knew stemmed from pain.</p><p>“I’ll take that as a yes then.”</p><p>This time Geralt, who as if now somewhat sensing the Bard’s mood offered a quiet “yes” rather than another hmm.</p><p>“Good,” was all the Bard replied in response.</p><p>Pricking his ears up, Geralt waited as if he were expecting more. Nothing came though. Once again Geralt could not help allowing that new prickling feeling- concern- to rise up in his chest. Jaskier was now glancing across the room intent on people watching so Geralt took this as an opportunity to examine his companion.</p><p>Gleaming yellow eyes glanced if not softly, than quietly upon the other man. A sudden realization struck the Witcher- the Bard’s lute was not with him. Interesting. Though he did not necessarily understand it he knew that Jaskier always carried his lute with him at the taverns they stayed at. It was never to be left in the room. At least not when the Bard <em>could </em>perform.</p><p>With all these thoughts in mind Geralt decided that now was the time to strike so to speak. His <strike>concern</strike>, <strike>worry</strike>…no, curiosity was in wont of satisfaction.</p><p> </p><p>“Bard where is your lute,” he grunted with no warning.</p><p>If anyone looked guilty, in the world, none looked more so than Jaskier as that question was posed. Swiftly he smoothed that look over though.</p><p>“Upstairs” he replied. As he said so another flare of pain shot his arm. His grimace was not lost upon Geralt.</p><p>“Will you not preform for the tavern’s folk though tonight” questioned Geralt.</p><p>“Well, I do not think they deserve to hear music of such caliber tonight” Jaskier answered in a false lofty tone.</p><p>On the inside he was panicking for he had just now realized that he would not be able to play his lute for some time. His injury would not allow him to. The thought was enough to make him feel sick.</p><p>“Well then I suppose that is for the better, no man truly has any affinity to that instrument or the songs anyway.”</p><p>And though Geralt had meant to say it in what he assumed mimicked a teasing tone he saw the quick but vulnerable look of hurt on Jaskier’s face.</p><p>“And why would that be Geralt”, the Bard queried, a tired attempt at lightness marked his tone</p><p><em>“They are like pies without filling of course”</em>, the Witcher deadpanned as he said this</p><p>Time froze for a moment as Jaskier attempted to separate his thoughts from the pain of his injury and what Geralt had just said. A thousand thoughts swirled in his head. They all came down to a bitter resentment of the fact that he was now in pain for a man whose words could cut him like the sharpest sword. But then he panicked.</p><p>Perhaps he was overthinking? Yes, that was it. The Witcher had not meant to hurt him. But then again, regardless of intent he had done so.</p><p>Geralt who was waiting for the Bard’s response realized that he had gone too far. At his last words the younger man had gone tense, his eyes held a vacant stare. But it was not truly vacant. Rather, it was a look that Geralt knew to well. It was the look of one attempting to appear void of emotions. It was Jaskier trying to hide from the Witcher. And to Geralt’s surprise he seemed adept at it.</p><p>“Jaskier…Jaskier... Bard... <em>Jask”</em></p><p>At this rarely used nickname, the Bard sprung from his thoughts. His face was unreadable. Glancing at Geralt with down cast eyes, he pushed up off the bench. Suddenly, Geralt realized that he was trembling, the Bard’s left hand was gripping his right arm, which now that Geralt thought about it, was hanging at a strange angle.</p><p>“I-I do not believe that I am very hungry after all, in fact I think that I shall retire.”</p><p>Amazingly, he managed to say this in a steady voice, contrary to the trembling of his slender frame. Not for the first time that night he made as if to escape. He was not so quick though that Geralt did not attempt to grab him first</p><p>“There is something wrong with you Jaskier- you must tell me what.”</p><p>Unthinkingly Geralt had grasped the arm that Jaskier was griping- the one held at a strange angle. As he did so he saw Jaskier’s shoulders tense so hard that the trembling of his body ceased, and instantly Geralt regretted his rash action.</p><p>“Release me” the Bard growled, and Geralt did so. Jaskier with little care to whatever dignity he may have still had ran up the stairs to their room.</p><p>Once Jaskier got their room he closed the door quietly. Tempted as he was to lock it, lest Geralt had followed him up the stairs, he refrained from doing so. Sitting down on his bed he slowly eased his shirt off.</p><p>Regrettably, his shirt bore no buttons so the only way to get it off was to pull it over his head. For this to be his great defeat, what would make him submit to the pain, was both ironic and rather embarrassing.</p><p>But, as no one else was in the room Jaskier allowed the tears of pain and frustration to roll down his pallid cheeks. Some rolled down his cheekbones, and then around and down into his mouth. On his empty stomach, they were nauseatingly saltine.</p><p>Now shirtless he cast a pair of wet blue eyes down to his injured arm. It was bruised now. A mottling of faint black and blue spread out across his right arm. It would be even darker and angrier in the morning.</p><p>With a sigh Jaskier looked out the window, it was going to be uncomfortable treating his injury. Painful even. Perhaps if he fell asleep? But what about Geralt though? No, but he did not believe the white- haired man would return to the room soon. He would just make sure that he tended to his injury before the Witcher returned.</p><p>Laying on his back Jaskier settled onto his pillow. Soft curly brown hair splayed out onto the white cover. Before he could worry more about Geralt finding him out- sleep claimed him.</p><p>
  <em>A pain gripped his very soul and he clutched his hands over his chest. Jaskier’s heart thumped in that cavity, a beat of both loneliness and despair. In the dark of night, the bard’s still sleeping form was still lain out on the tavern’s bed. But now, in his fitful state of <strike>sleep </strike>night terrors he had turned over onto his injured arm. The pain he felt within his nightmare was as real as his deluded mind imagined. Geralt had left him. A “weak, foolish human”-that is what he had called him after finding out about his injury. </em>
</p><p>As Jaskier twisted and turned, in the other bed a still form sat up. Geralt. A few hours earlier he had returned from below. He had been asleep, but the Bard’s tossing and turning had awoken him. Initially he had believed it to be rodents. He then realized it was the bard. There was no longer any curiosity where Jaskier was concerned. No, it was now definitely the distinct feeling of worry.</p><p>He is having a nightmare thought Geralt. And to his surprise a tinge of sadness struck him for he knew that he had hurt <strike>his,</strike> the Bard with his ill thought words earlier. It cannot be about that though.</p><p> For though he was not proud of it, he knew that Jaskier would have realized that Geralt had meant no real harm. Jaskier would have already forgiven him. At least half-way. That meant there was something more then. To Geralt’s chagrin he realized that it meant he had missed something.</p><p>Without another moment’s thought the Witcher swung his legs out of bed and padding over to Jaskier’s bed, he lit the bedside candle. Jaskier still twisted and turned frantically. Whether it was best to wake him without touching him or not, Geralt did not know. So, he opted for softly calling out the Bard’s name.</p><p>“Jask…Jask… wake up Jask, you are having nightmare.”</p><p>Even the Witcher was surprised at how soft he managed to get his voice to be-almost…tender? To his dismay though the brunette still twitched back and forth. Without any other option Geralt grabbed his arms. Mistake.</p><p>At this particular action, Jaskier let out a wail that pierced through the Witcher. Making a split-second decision Geralt switched his positions from standing and slipped behind Jaskier. He placed a hand to his bard’s face and cupped Jaskier’s chin.</p><p>“Jask…you must wake up…none of it is real”, he murmured</p><p>With a start Jaskier woke up, strange, his brow was moist. Stranger yet, he was sitting up now whereas he was almost certain he had fallen asleep lying down. Then he suddenly realized something-no- someone’s fingers were underneath his chin <strike>tenderly </strike>kindly holding it.</p><p>“Geralt”? he breathed</p><p>Above he felt a nod of assent from the head resting atop his.</p><p>“I-I’m sorry…you should not have had to see me like this,” to his absolute mortification this declaration ended up being choked off by an involuntary whimper of pain.</p><p>Rather than answer this Geralt deflected him instead.</p><p>“You are in pain Jask, <em>please</em> I want to understand, let me help you- tell me what is wrong.”</p><p>Jaskier opened his mouth to speak, as he did so though Geralt moved. In doing so he jostled the Bard’s injury causing another flare of pain to shoot through the brunettes arm. This time was different though and instead of dying out, it seemed to bounce back and forth up and down his arm. A radiating force of fire is what it felt like. He felt an unbelievable strong urge to just cry suddenly.</p><p>Anger at the pain he felt because of his injury surged through him, but also and to his shame, anger at his Witcher for not noticing. So, he bit his lip and pressed himself deeper into the comforting presence that was Geralt’s chest. By not answering he knew he was being childish- but so be it then.</p><p>Geralt for once seemed to be perceptive of all these thoughts swirling around Jaskier’s mind and for the first time( but most certainly not the last), he allowed his face to be vulnerable and though Jaskier could not see it, a deep look of regret had settled upon his face.</p><p>Jaskier was injured and of course he had not told him. Was it because he did not trust him, or, because-</p><p>“No, you great oaf, that is not why,” a slightly quavering voice interrupted his thoughts. Jaskier. It was if the bard had read his thoughts. Hesitating, Jaskier whispered softly,</p><p>“no, not at all. Rather, it is my fault for I-I thought you might leave me if you found out I was injured. In fact, that is why you found me twitching no doubt, and assuredly sweating a bucket of sweat.”</p><p>Although the Bard attempted to play his statement off with amusement his attempt fell short. He could feel Geralt tense behind him. The hand that had been resting under his chin now moved up towards his cheek. <br/><br/></p><p>            Haltingly, Geralt brushed the tears off Jaskier’s cheeks. For a brief moment, his hand cupped his bard’s cheek, and his thumb circled softly, its roughened fatty pad grounding Jaskier.</p><p> </p><p>“Where are you injured”, Geralt asked so quietly that Jaskier nearly did not hear it.</p><p>And for a second, he pondered on whether or not he could just pretend he did not. He knew Geralt well-almost too well-once he saw Jaskier’s injuries he would feel guilty. However, Jaskier also knew that Geralt would be worse off if he did not see them. Regarding their current situation, both men had made mistakes. Jaskier should have made Geralt aware of his injury and Geralt should have questioned Jaskier when he knew something was wrong.</p><p>“My right arm” he replied.</p><p>Shifting slightly Geralt’s fingers brushed gently across Jaskier’s shoulder. He now suddenly realized that the man was shirtless, and if the situation were not so serious, he would have blushed.</p><p>I do not-?</p><p>Using his good arm Jaskier moved the candle atop the night-stand closer to allow more light.</p><p><em>“Jask,” </em>the Witcher choked out.</p><p>The younger man’s arm was dark with bruises and the Witcher felt an ache in his chest.</p><p>“Well, if you did not know before…you know it know. I bruise rather easily love.”</p><p>Geralt knew this was Jaskier’s attempt to lighten the mood but he still felt the same ache. Gently, gripping the Bard’s injured arm, he tore off a piece of his shirt and wrapped the injured arm. Carefully, he made a make-shift sling. Although he would have preferred to ice Jaskier’s arm the sling would have to do for tonight.</p><p>By the time he was done exhaustion had taken Jaskier and he was already nearly asleep. At Geralt’s attempts to shift him into a safer position for his injury though, he made several disgruntled grunts. But when his head laid pillowed in his Witcher’s lap his breaths became deep, easier, as he floated off into sleep.</p><p>As he floated off, he imagined that he felt the soft brush of lips on his forehead and a rough hand tenderly carding through his brown curls.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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